


The dirty face of gold

by Sangrylah



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, M/M, Sparring, canonical level of violence, slight adashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangrylah/pseuds/Sangrylah
Summary: Adam approached Shiro and suggested a friendly spar, his words halting and stiff, and Shiro agreed before he even finished asking.





	The dirty face of gold

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a universe where Adam somehow survived because my friend can’t handle canon.  
> Thank you to Angie, Pep and Vee for the beta ♥

When all the debriefings and the meetings and the conferences and the briefings ended, and everyone had something to eat and cried all the tears they could cry, Adam approached Shiro, almost shy. He suggested a friendly spar, his words halting and stiff, and Shiro agreed before he even finished asking.

Keith followed because Keith had always followed Shiro, because watching him fight was always great and because he missed Adam. Not that he’d ever know how to tell him, but still. He grew up by Shiro’s side and during the last years before Kerberos, there was someone else on the other side. They probably were the closest thing he had to parents or brothers. He knew things hadn’t been the best when Shiro left, but a spar was a first step.

They naturally went to one of the smaller training rooms, the one that was tucked aside like some kind of secret. Keith chose a spot towards the middle of the wall with the best vantage point and comfortably parked himself there, his arms crossed as usual. Adam divested himself of his jacket, exposing his standard issued garrison T-shirt whereas Shiro remained as he was. There wasn’t much point to get out of his paladin uniform though. It was made for combat, and so comfortable they regularly slept in the damn things.

As he watched the men who’d raised him as much as his father had banter and set the rules, liquid warmth ran from Keith’s throat to his belly. It was good, seeing them together again. It reminded him of before. Before Shiro left them, before he got kidnapped and tortured, before having to watch Adam break and not knowing how to piece him back together. They had been in this exact situation dozens of times in the past, the three of them, sparring late at night after all of their combined classes, one of them watching from the sidelines and yelling tips or ridiculous comments. Keith would keep his mouth shut today, but the similarities were _there_. They had a past, and they would have a future. 

“Best out of three?” Adam asked.

Shiro smiled winningly. “Sure!”

And so it started. Adam lowered himself in a fighting position, fists held high and knees pliant and soft. Shiro didn’t move. He stared at Adam and only moved to counter when the other pilot rushed him. He sidestepped, tried to land a hit that was blocked, and rolled to the other side when Adam counterattacked.

Adam was a pilot, but he was a military pilot. He knew how to fight and how to take care of himself. Keith had learned most of what he deemed important from Shiro, but Adam had had a few tricks to teach him too. Adam was no slouch.

Yet it was clear to Keith that he was… less. These past years had taken a strangely heavy toll. He’d gotten slower, rougher, more obvious – clumsier, maybe. He had a dozen of tells Keith didn’t remember him having and telegraphed every move. Shiro had no difficulty dodging and counterattacking even if Keith knew he wasn’t giving it his all. Adam tried an uppercut and Keith cringed. His form was atrocious and indeed, Shiro only had to give him a tap on the wrist to avoid the blow. But Shiro even half-assed things properly so he dropped to the ground, swiped at Adam and sprung back up in the space of a blink. It was a move that Keith favored himself; it combined defense and attack in quick succession and was usually very effective, especially against taller and heavier opponents – Galra, namely.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Keith straightened and got to his feet. He focused his attention on Adam and mentally took apart his attacks. Block, deflect, kick, duke, punch, parry, punch, kick, dodge – Keith could easily pick up patterns and combinations. It was easy, because it was familiar. Nothing – or not _much_ – was new. Adam fought the same as before.

But Shiro…

He twisted his body in ways that Adam didn’t, used moves that none of their instructors had showed Adam. He used to be on par with them, but now… it was clear that Shiro was the superior fighter. As he should!, thought Keith. Shiro was the Champion, killer of thousands, and a Paladin of Voltron, savior of millions. Of course he was better – _thank god_ he was. Because yeah, Adam used to be on par with them, and maybe he could hold his own against another human, but he’d have been killed in two seconds flat if Shiro had been a Galra.

A weight like a pound of lead fell in his stomach at the thought.

It wasn’t Adam who’d gotten less, but Shiro who’d changed.

Because Shiro… he didn’t use to fight like this. Shiro used to fight like Adam, and Keith did too, because they were all taught by human instructors whose perspective was human and human-centered. Shiro though, now fought, for lack of a better word, like an alien. He fought like someone who’d seen combat, who’d seen death and knew that it didn’t necessarily have soft, breakable humanoid bones. Shiro fought like Keith. Like Pidge, like Allura. He fought like someone who’d faced a thousand enemies of a hundred iterations and _won_.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Not a pleasant thought at all.

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off. He recognized each and every move and combination Shiro used and how they were meant to be used – against _who_ they were meant to be used. Parry, kick, kick, whip, punch – the Solras. Punch, punch, whip, hammer – the Halvs. Kick, kick, kick, punch, roll, kick – the S’risss. Whip, jump, spear – Keith screamed.

“NO!”

His luxite blade was flying before he could think about it. It hit Shiro’s wrist, where the armor was thinner and more pliant, with enough force to deviate his arm, sparring Adam’s life for maybe one second. Shiro hissed but didn’t stop, raising his knees instead to crush his opponent.

It was _barely_ long enough but it _was_ , and Keith blocked the hit with his bayard. The impact pushed him back and he gritted his teeth to withstand the assault. He used his left hand to push back and threw Shiro off, his sword tracing a big red semicircle in the air.

“Shiro, STOP!”

That seemed to reach Shiro and he blinked, shaking his head as if stunned.

“You’re going to kill him!”, Keith continued.“He can’t take hits like this, he’s not like us!” He realized the weight of his words the instant they left his mouth and turned towards Adam, his eyes wide. “I mean…”

“No, no. It’s fine, it’s… yeah. Fine.”

But it wasn’t.

Adam was staring at Shiro as if he’d never seen him before. Keith didn’t know what he _was_ seeing but he doubted it was good.

He turned back to Shiro. He, too, was staring at Adam with… shock. Keith refused to call it anything else. It was shock, and surprise, that was all.

Keith was standing between them, his Paladin bayard held in his hand. He could smell, just behind him, Adam’s sweat and he could hear him panting heavily, his body straining under the effort of fighting against Shiro. Keith could also see Shiro, in front of him, looking perfectly composed except for that expression of ~~horror~~ shock on his face. Shiro had been about to kill his lover and he wasn’t even breathing hard.

Keith swallowed and averted his eyes. His Blade laid a few steps to his left on the ground.

They had a past. Keith wasn’t so sure about that future anymore.

 


End file.
